Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this past Tuesday morning, I had an orthodontist appointment.

Keep in mind one of my curious third-world quirks. This is Bolivia, yet somehow even though I’m surrounded by Latina Barbies with extremely glittery layers of makeup, I only usually bother with ironing and makeup for business meetings and special events. I’ve used starch perhaps twice in the past year… when I was an intern/PA/student in the States I could easily go through a can or two of spray starch each month. I did my nails (bitten as they were) even when I knew I was going to work just to soak my fingers in mud to wash and register artifacts at the archaeology lab. On this sunny Tuesday in Bolivia, though, I actually decided to dress up my face a tad since I usually go in and they are looking down at my untouched skin. I was even up an extra hour or two earlier than necessary. I was having a good morning.

I appeared at the office at 9:30am and found the reception area packed. Stuffed with people. No seating available. Hardly any standing room.

The receptionist let me in with, “The doctor isn’t in here yet.”

Ah. That’s not unusual, but the crowd in waiting was. “How long do you think it will take for her to arrive?”, I asked.

Pause. “Half hour?” The uncertainty was clear. In Cochabamba, the default wait time when something isn’t certain is 15 minutes. To be told that it might be another half hour is… well, that’s the day planner’s kiss of death.

“Is there a better day instead?”

“You’d like a new appointment?”

“Yes, please.” My mood was too pleasant to waste on a cramped reception area where I could wait for an hour or three.

We rescheduled for Thursday morning, 9:00am, the first appointment of the day.

Thursday morning was far less perky. I settled for the bare minimum of effort. Clean clothes, brushed hair, non-stinky showered self… a dentist who is late really doesn’t deserve makeup, I reasoned. Even so, she was late again! She arrived at 9:10 and our appointment began at 9:20. Dental work didn’t begin for minutes after that. First, she had to bicker.

“You weren’t here on Tuesday!”

“No, Doctor, I was here on Tuesday. You weren’t.”

“But you left!”

“Yes… I left because you were not here for our appointment!”

“I was here!”

“Not at 9:30!”

“When I arrived they said your car had just left!”

“Yes… your receptionist said you might be another half hour. So I made a new appointment.”

“You left! We had an appointment! Why did you leave?”

“Because you weren’t here for the appointment! I don’t have enough free time to wait that long!”

“You should not leave when we have an appointment.”

I was completely baffled by why this was a problem. She wasn’t there! There wasn’t even room to wait! Then, for the new appointment, she was late again! I couldn’t even begin to wrap my brain around this failure of logic, and my Spanish certainly wasn’t able to cope. I just stared up at her. She evidently understood that I wasn’t getting it, so she repeated:

“You left!”

“You WERE NOT HERE!”

Culture clash. Perhaps when our sessions are over in October or November I’ll gift her with an alarm clock. Only when I needn’t see her again, mind you. She settled her frustration with me on Thursday by yanking my teeth more forcefully than ever for a solid fifteen minutes.

I go out of my way to be careful of the plans and preferences of my friends. I am astounded by the carelessness of others.

This morning, a little old woman of 78 arrived at the church building to clean the church. She was supposed to be met by her daughter and another family, all of whom had agreed to assist in the monthly uptake and cleaning. None of the others arrived. This elderly woman worked for hours upstairs, doing her best to make the space look as lovely as she could.

Tonight, I am preparing to leave for Wichita where I am to pick up my new car (an incredible gift that I will discuss when I get back!). We leave at dawn, and I’m very tired. I did all of my schoolwork tonight so that a friend could have my textbooks to study with over the weekend. Over two hours after when she was supposed to arrive, I’m still stuck waiting. I need to go to bed and lock the doors and just sleep for tomorrow’s drive. But, no. Meanwhile, this is only three weeks after an entire weekend of this same behavior from her. Furthermore, I was chewed out for having called her house at 11:30!

I have lost my patience.

I am astounded by the carelessness of others.

—

HERE, HERE!
Posted by joanna @ 03/02/2004 02:37 PM CST

I came home from school. I emptied the mouse traps (4 dead in 12 hours: both good and freaky). I checked my email and started my laundry. I dozed off as I tried to finish watching an Everlasting Piece (ugh). I woke up an hour into my nap, frantic and convinced that I had to be out someplace, that I had some appointment, somewhere. I couldn’t remember what it was, but I was convinced and so I ran around getting ready in a hurry. I finally had my keys and wallet and sweater and was ready… but I still couldn’t remember anything that I had to do on a Monday night. So I didn’t go.

I don’t think I had anything scheduled. I really don’t. But I still have a nagging thought.

I spoke to my mother on the phone, and told her about this. She paused. “…That’s a little crazy.“
Not the wacky, “oy, silly kid!” kinda crazy. Rather, she had that definite “I’m worried about your sanity, are you okay?” tone of voice.

I had made a similar assessment earlier. I have been existing for years with only my memory. I buy planners and never use them. Previously, I’ve had regular schedules: 4–5 classes with regular hours, regular working hours, church on certain days, etc. Toss in the typical extra appointments, this wasn’t an issue. This semester I’m juggling a regular but unusual class schedule, appointment-based work schedule (Jane calls in and schedules a time, John calls in and schedules another), a few regular work hours, etc. Not very different, except I have more variables to keep track of. I’m usually fine with variables, but I think the extra stressers must have built up and clogged my brilliance.

In conclusion: I have to actually use that planner that is sitting in a box beside my desk.